


In a Master's Hands

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [13]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Kinbaku, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big day has finally come: Byakuya's birthday.  But, before they can get to the "present" that Renji has planned, they have to get through a very long day....</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Master's Hands

Sunlight stabbed Renji in the eye like a knife. 

He rolled over in an effort to hide from the sharp brightness of it. Burying his face in the nearest crevice, Renji’s nose pressed into Byakuya’s ass. Ass? Renji’s hung-over brain tried to parse why Byakuya’s butt would be in the pillow. 

It took far too many minutes for the realization to dawn on Renji that maybe this meant Byakuya was awake. 

Cracking open an eye, he confirmed that Byakuya was, indeed, sitting upright and reading over a stack of paper in his lap. He held a steaming bowl of tea just under his nose. Occasionally, he took a sip. Thin lips parted, his mouth opening. Taking in a mouthful, Byakuya’s Adam’s apple bobbed, swallowing.

Damn.

_Peerless_.

Renji was about to say something about how fucking unfair it was that Byakuya was so casually gorgeous, when Byakuya’s hand absently reached down to rest on Renji’s head. Fingers curled into Renji’s hair. A soft huff of breath released from Byakuya the moment they touched. Not knowing that Renji was awake, watching him, Byakuya’s shoulders relaxed, his face softened. When his fingers caught on a snarl in Renji’s hair, his lips lifted in a fond smile.

At that moment, Byakuya glanced down and their eyes met.

Their gaze held. Renji sucked in a breath, waiting for the mask to fall back into place, for Byakuya to cut off this raw, open moment. But Byakuya looked back with a slight tremble of having been caught… happy and content? Renji’s heart thumped, waiting for something, but what? 

Then, Byakuya removed his hand and turned his face away, asking, “How long were you planning at playing asleep?”

Renji rolled away from Byakuya, the moment passed. With a yawn, he stretched his muscles until they popped. “I was kind of hoping we could spend the day in bed.”

Byakuya made a sound that could have been a groan. “Don’t you have duty?”

“Nah,” Renji said. He tucked his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling, pleased with his forethought. “I switched with Nanako. I don’t have to go in until this afternoon. In exchange for a double later this week, I’m pulling a short shift, so I’ll have plenty of time this evening to get Captain Ōtoribashi in here and get all trussed up and ready for you.”

When Byakuya said nothing to that, Renji glanced over at him. He was studying his papers very carefully. But there was something in the way he seemed to be taking very shallow breaths that brought a wolfish smile to Renji’s face. 

Pulling himself up to a sitting position, Renji nudged Byakuya lightly with his shoulder. “Looking forward, eh?”

A very husky, “Indeed,” was all Byakuya could manage, which sent Renji into a dark chuckle.

The wind howled around the eaves. A cold draft whistled through the cracks.. Renji shivered. Leaning into Byakuya, Renji tried to read what he was looking at. Then, he had to pull back, look at the size of the pile, and then check again. “Is all of that seriously your agenda for today?”

Byakuya set down the paper he’d been reading and nodded gravely. Closing his eyes, he took another long pull on his tea, like he was nursing the last drop of sake, and nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Rarely in Renji’s life did he feel sorry for someone as astronomically rich as Byakuya, but right now he did. In Inuzuri, there would be no cake, no food, but people would smile and wish you well. Sometimes, someone would steal you something for a present. But, nobody expected you to do anything too strenuous; there might even be an evening gathering by firelight and songs sung. Nothing was exactly awesome in Inuzuri, but birthdays were your day at least: yours—where you got to set the agenda. “That fucking looks like work.”

“It is,” Byakuya agreed.

“Is it always like this?” Renji asked.

“Since becoming clan head, yes,” Byakuya said, his eyes still closed. He held the tea bowl under his nose in both hands. He took another sip, savored it, and then gave Renji a quick, but serious look. “I’m very grateful to be coming home to you.”

“Yeah, you’re going to need some stress relief,” Renji agreed. “And, here I was feeling bad about being so crass.”

“Not at all,” Byakuya said with a little smile. “Your present is very thoughtful.”

Renji scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “If you say so.”

A hand came down to rest on Renji’s thigh and give it a little squeeze. “I do. It’s very comforting to know that I have you to come home to.”

Renji smiled and silently added: and all wrapped up in your favorite kinky way. Yeah, the dance hall would’ve been a bust. Especially given all the socializing Byakuya was expected to do today. “So, after this,” Renji said, stifling another yawn on the back of his hand. “The relatives finally move out?”

Byakuya nodded, though a slight drop of his shoulders made him seem very, very grateful of that fact.

“Have you found anyone to take on Daisuke?” Renji asked. He’d mostly forgotten about the kagema that Kyōraku had tried to poison, but seeing Seichi last night had jogged a lot of forgotten promises loose. 

“I think so.” Byakuya glanced up from his papers. “If Daisuke interviews well, which I suspect he will, I’ve a cousin in need of a handsome footman.”

Renji’s eyebrows went up. “In need of handsomeness? Does that mean what I think it does?”

Byakuya didn’t quite roll his eyes, but he sighed in a way that made it clear that he felt Renji’s mind was entirely too much in the gutter. “The household sees a lot of important tradesmen. Having a handsome face to serve food and open doors and such is considered a valuable asset.”

Renji made an “Uh-huh, sure it is” noise.

“Stop it,” Byakuya admonished. “It’s not like that.”

Of course, at that moment, Eishirō announced that he was coming in with breakfast. Renji arranged himself so that he could sit opposite Byakuya. Given that he was naked, this took quite a bit of adjusting, but he managed it before Eishirō made it all the way through the suite to their bed.

“Happy birthday, my lord,” Eishirō said with a shy smile and an agile bow that managed to keep all the trays aloft and un-spilled. 

“Thank you,” Byakuya said genuinely, but in a way that made Renji sense that he was already exhausted by how many times he would be accepting happy returns on the day. On the other hand, Byakuya seemed far more surprised by the present that appeared among the breakfast dishes when the tray cover was lifted. He sounded upset when he said the perfunctory, “Eishirō! You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s a small thing,” Eishirō said. Having finished arranging the tray, Eishirō dropped to his knees beside the bed and bowed his head. “Not at all worthy of my lord.”

Nevermind, he probably spent a month’s salary on it, Renji thought as he braced himself for the usual dance of ‘I can’t take this’ and ‘it’s nothing, honestly’ that usually accompanied gift giving.

Byakuya surprised everyone by going off script. “I’m certain it will be perfect and thoughtful,” Byakuya said. “I’m only distressed at the timing. You and your family will be expected to go without soon enough.”

Renji actually made an ‘ouch’ noise. Because, really, Byakuya? You’re going to bring up money? With your servant? Who just gave you a gift?

But, Eishirō waved off Byakuya’s protest. “Your concern touches me, my lord. But, don’t spare me a thought. I’ve had this planned for a long time, as will, I believe, become apparent.”

“Ah, yes, of course. I should have known,” Byakuya said, lifting the present. It was a flat box. About the length of Renji’s forearm, it was slightly wider than it was long. Perfect, crisply folded Kuchiki blue paper covered the box. It was otherwise unadorned, but the simplicity held its own beauty.

As Byakuya began to unpeel the edges, Eishirō added, “I conspired with the seamstress, so this should be considered a gift from her as well.”

Now Renji was deeply curious and he leaned over the tray as much as he dared. Already, the mattress shifted enough that he had to steady the tray-table with this hand. A picture frame slid out from the paper and whatever was on it made Byakuya gasp. A slight well of tears formed instantly in his eyes, which he covered by looking away. 

“What? What is it?” Renji wanted to know. 

Byakuya closed his eyes, overwhelmed with emotion, but he turned the frame so Renji could see. On a scrap of pure white silk an image had been embroidered with gray and silver threads—and a slash or two of blood red. Renji recognized it instantly. It was the image of his nue from Byakuya’s funeral kimono: its snake tail curled around and hissing at the falling plum blossoms that had represented Hisana.

Renji sat back, gob smacked. It was gorgeous. It was… intimate and… a little tragic. Yet the stitching was as beautiful and breathtaking as Renji remembered it. The image was a powerful reminder of their love—how it had survived so much, even in its infancy.

“Is it alright?” Eishirō asked nervously. “The work was so beautiful, I felt it a shame to entirely lose…”

Byakuya cut him off. He reached his free hand out to clasp one of Renji’s briefly, but with a grip that radiated emotion. “It’s perfect. I will cherish it always.”

After Eishirō bowed his way out, Renji wondered, “It’s not going to make you too sad, thinking about how I could have died at your hands?”

Byakuya frowned at the scrap of silk for a long time, and then set the picture frame aside. “So much of my life has been tragedy and loss. This, at least, proves your resilience.” Byakuya glanced up from where he’d been staring at his empty plate and gave Renji a wan smile. “You defied even my attempt to kill you.”

The implied, ‘and if I can’t kill you, no one can’ hung unspoken in the air. Renji chuckled. Arrogant as ever. But then, Byakuya had defeated that Septa Espada—Zommari, was it? It had cost him a damn sight more than a haori, too, but he’d done it almost literally with one arm tied behind his back. Hobbled. Self-inflicted.

Badass.

_Peerlessly_ badass.

“It disturbs me, the way that makes you smile,” Byakuya said, turning his attention to the meal. There were the usual bowls of steamed rice and fish broth flavored miso soup. Next to those was a small serving of winter spinach, blanched and drenched in some kind of sauce and garnished with roasted sesame seeds. The pickles were “fukujinzuke,” seven lucky gods pickles: daikon, eggplant, lotus root, cucumber, sword beans, perilla, and shitake mushrooms. 

A sliced tube of tamagoyaki, pan-fried rolled egg, was the main course, which made Renji happy. The omelet was one of his favorites because it was often sweet, being usually made with a bit of sugar or mirin, a sweet rice wine.

Renji waited impatiently for Byakuya to say grace and then he dug in. “You got to let me train with you some more,” Renji said, apropos of his own thoughts. “I got my ass kicked by the number eight Espada and I had that Quincy kid helping me.” Renji winced a little at the phantom sensation of his organs being crushed. A wave of helplessness threatened to overwhelm him, but he distracted himself by stuffing a roll or two of the eggs in his mouth. Around bites, he muttered, “Yeah, seriously. I need to get stronger.”

Byakuya, meanwhile, delicately nibbled on a pickle. “Who are you expecting to fight?”

“Aizen,” Renji said without much consideration.

“Renji, Aizen is in jail for life.”

Renji snorted. “Yeah, well, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Normally, I would tell you that you were being unreasonably paranoid,” Byakuya said after another thoughtful bite, “But your instincts regarding Aizen have always been good. We will find time to train.”

“Nice,” Renji said, helping himself to some of those pickles.

“Besides,” Byakuya said casually, but with his eyes averted, “The more we spar, the less I fear your demon.”

Renji had been taking a big gulp of tea, and had to hold it in his mouth a few moments to avoid a sputter. Renji couldn’t remember the last time they discussed demons and all that. And, for Byakuya to just throw out the word ‘fear’ like it was nothing…? First that exposed, lingering glance and now this? Was Byakuya feeling particularly vulnerable and honest today, on his birthday?

Byakuya could be brooding on the scrap of funeral kimono, too. Those were… rough times, to say the least, and the nue had been at the center of much of their heartache. If that were the case, then truly moving past all that was certainly something Renji could embrace.

Finally managing to swallow properly, Renji wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “I guess that’s good all around then, eh?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Byakuya said, seeming to relax a bit as he filled Renji’s tea bowl. 

His eyes were still downcast, however, which wasn’t all that unusual, but prompted Renji to ask, “Are you feeling okay?”

Byakuya paused to consider. The empty mask he usually wore quivered a little, and then he sighed. “I hate my birthday. It makes me maudlin, wondering if I’ve achieved anything worth celebrating. I’m proud of my service to the Gotei, but being a great warrior means that my greatest achievement is a shadow of graves left in my wake. Being an accomplished warrior is not like being an accomplished composer or artist or even a generous philanthropist. I’ve lived all these years and I have nothing to show for it, nothing but blood and grief.” Taking a breath, he turned his face away and the last words were spoken just barely above a whisper, “Not even a child to bear my name.”

Wow, okay, so Byakuya's biological clock was ticking. That was the last thing Renji expected. 

The rest made no sense to him. He kind of got it, in theory. But, where Renji was from, a reputation was the very best achievement a person could hope to gain before they died. Renji had sacrificed everything just to be worthy of Zabimaru. He had always expected that his greatest accomplishment would be to die in the service of the Gotei. His only ambition was that he hoped his sacrifice might be worthwhile enough so that someone might mark his passing and put his name on a stone for people to remember.

But a baby? Was that what Byakuya was feeling so weird about? 

Renji had no idea what to do with that. 

None.

There were always a few infants in Inuzuri. They passed through like everyone else, but… there was no food in Inuzuri. You could explain to a toddler that, while it was a big lie that the hunger ever went away, here, in the land of the Dead, starvation wouldn’t kill you. Babies…

Babies died from the want. Even though water should have been enough, for whatever reason, infants could not live on it. Love and hope didn’t work either, no matter how much you tried.

Every time a baby came through, it was horrible. The arrival of an infant was everyone’s worst nightmare. The idea of wanting to bring one into this world was well and truly foreign to Renji, anathema, even.

But, Byakuya looked so… forlorn. Renji felt he should say something. “What about Shinobu? I mean, isn’t that the point of him?”

“Yes, of course,” Byakuya said, his face still turned away. “But, have you never wanted a child of your own, Renji?”

Not even for a millisecond. Renji liked children well enough, but babies, not so much. 

But, Byakuya was looking at him now, so he said, “I don’t exactly have to worry about the Abarai name continuing. There’s always going to be an Abarai gang in Inuzuri. It’s just a phenomenon, like the Dread Pirate Roberts. As for the rest,” Renji shrugged, “I guess I never figured I’d live long enough to get broody. Oh, er, no offense!”

Byakuya frowned. “Broody?” he repeated, and made a huffing, disgusted noise. “I’m discussing my legacy.”

“Sure,” Renji said, as if he believed that for a second. Why was Byakuya even talking to Renji about babies anyway, it’s not like they could…. “Oh. Is that what this is? Are you asking for my permission to knock some lady up? Because I don’t know about that. I mean, in my experience, when you step out of the way for someone else to have the family you can’t provide, you don’t ever get that back.”

_Oh, shit. Was that out loud?_

Byakuya looked stunned, like it had never occurred to him that Renji might have been devastated by Rukia’s adoption.

“Uh,” Renji tried to salvage the conversation with some re-direction, “What I mean is I’d be pretty jealous of you cooing over some baby and its mother. I don’t see how I could fit in that kind of arrangement, and ain’t no way I’d come between it, neither. No way.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Byakuya said, his face still drained, as white as a sheet. “In fact, I’m not sure what I was suggesting. I only wished…”

Whatever Byakuya’s thought was going to be it was cut off by the sound of the door being slammed open and running feet. Renji was out of bed, reaching for Zabimaru, before he realized it was, of all people, Rukia. Tears filled her wide eyes and she only stopped to give Renji’s nakedness a cursory glance. “Nii-sama,” she said, her voice struggling not to break, “Ichigo is waking up. I’m so sorr—“

“Don’t even be, not for a moment,” Byakuya said, with a wave of his hand. “Go, the both of you. Quickly, before you miss your opportunity.”

Rukia spontaneously hugged Byakuya and whispered something in his ear. Meanwhile, Renji grabbed his clothes and Zabimaru and hurriedly started to dress. By the time Byakuya was saying, “Yes, yes, but you must hurry,” Renji had the kosode and shitagi tied. The fucking complicated hakama could wait until they were standing in front of the senkaimon. “Let’s go,” Renji said, prying Rukia away from Byakuya. “Your brother’s right. We don’t have any time to lose.”

“But his birthday!”

“Will happen again next year,” Renji and Byakuya said in stereo. Renji met Byakuya’s glance at that with a little smile. He stopped long enough to kiss the top of Byakuya’s head and say, “The kid only has a matter of minutes. So it’s not like I won’t be back in time for tonight.”

“I will expect you,” Byakuya said fondly. Then his tone turned commanding: “Now go or I will have you both forcefully removed.”

“Ah, there’s love for ya,” Renji said with a laugh, as he hauled Rukia out the door over her protests of “Put on your pants, you dolt!” and his reply of “Don’t be such a ninny, my ass is covered. It ain’t nothing nobody around here hasn’t already seen anyways.”

#

As the sound of their bickering faded down the hall, Byakuya let out a sigh. He would be angry at the astoundingly rude timing of Ichigo Kurosaki, but Byakuya was actually glad to know that Rukia had a more-than-valid excuse to miss the birthday… proceedings. 

Or, perhaps, Byakuya thought glancing at the funeral kimono’s silken embroidery, an even better term might be ‘processional.’

It would be a dreary, dull affair. Everyone he loved should be well and truly shot of it.

Filling his tea bowl to the rim, he set it on the end table. Then he moved aside the tea tray in preparation of getting up and dressing. Ah, but he could hardly dress himself today, could he? There were too many layers to contend with in the formal kimono required of him. With another regretful noise, he pulled the bell for a servant. 

As he sipped his tea, he wished, in some strange way, he was going with Renji and Rukia. Today would be awful for them, especially Rukia—but Renji, too.

In an even stranger way, Byakuya was jealous of Ichigo. His path was now wide open. He could discover what legacy he had beyond blood and tears and pain. His sword was forcibly taken from him, yes, but Ichigo could now settle into the business of growing up and growing old. 

Ichigo’s life, for the first time, could be all his, free from the responsibility of saving the world.

Probably, Ichigo would resist such fate with every fiber of his being. He would never see the joy to be had in a normal, uneventful life.

Such gifts, Byakuya thought, are wasted on the young.

#

Renji finished tying up his hakama as they waited for the kidō guard to finish readying the senkaimon. “Is it because Hisana was sick? Is that why your brother never managed kids?”

“What are you yammering about?”

She looked like she’d been miles away or maybe on the verge of tears. Ah, shit, of course Rukia had other things on her mind. He gave the obi one last pull and straightened Zabimaru. “Nevermind.” Renji put a hand on her tiny, narrow shoulder and give her what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. “You know what you’re going to say?”

Her lips went thin, but her expression calmed. “I think so, yeah.”

He nodded, impressed. In her situation, he’d have no fucking clue. But, her confidence made his role easier. “Right,” he said, nodding to the kidō guard that they were ready when the gate was, “I’ll make sure you’ve got space to do it.”

#

Three hours into what Byakuya mentally dubbed his birthday ‘processional,’ and Eishirō had not yet even announced every family member in attendance. 

The servants had dusted out and polished up the single largest space in the estate. Technically, it was four huge rooms combined; their fusuma panels removed and stored. The art on the remaining walls had been constructed to appear as a seamless depiction of the change of seasons. The dais Byakuya sat on was, of course, in the winter room. 

Spread out before him were representatives from his entire clan, organized and arranged in proper rank. Those closest to him were those of the highest rank. Conspicuously missing were Rukia, who would have had a spot beside him on the dais, and aunt Masama, who would have sat on a slightly lower tier, which she would have shared with the heir, Shinobu, who now sat there alone, desperately trying to stay still and appear appropriately interested/disinterested. 

It was difficult, even for a seasoned veteran of such affairs as himself. The boy was doing really well, considering.

Byakuya stifled the urge to yawn as the list of names and ranks continued. The autumn room, the farthest away, had finally begun to fill. At this distance, Byakuya could only see hints of clothing and color. It fascinated him that there seemed to be a direct correlation between how distant and tenuous the relation, the brighter and showier the kimonos. It was as though the ‘poor’ relations were like birds of paradise, desperate to impress with plumage and bauble. He started to lean to the side as though to share this observation with Rukia, only to have to stop and remember she wasn’t there.

It wasn’t that clever a thought, at any rate.

The names continued….

At least at some point, there would be a dance performance and, possibly, singing. Unfortunately the list of names would be repeated when everyone brought their presents to lay at his feet.

They would all be “presents” Byakuya would never even open because they were more like tithes than gifts… warehouses of rice, bolts of silk, acres of land, and such like.

What Byakuya really wanted was bubblegum or a cellphone from the human world, anything that was even vaguely personal. Ironically, one of the things that had been on the docket today was a performance written and directed by Isoroku, which had the potential to be at least the sort of thing Byakuya actually enjoyed. But, that, of course, had been struck from the day’s events when Isoroku was sent off.

More names, more titles read. And at this distance, Byakuya didn’t even have to pay heed enough to nod or afford a moment of attention. Yet, he could hardly take a nap or seem disinterested, either.

The day promised to be interminable.

#

Renji was exhausted when they finally got back to the Soul Society. He hadn’t done much. In fact, he’d mostly stayed out of the way, particularly once he noticed that most of Ichigo’s inner circle of friends was there for him. So, Renji had hung back, chatted with Urahara and company a bit, and acted as moral support for Rukia when it was clear Ichigo could no longer see her.

It was rough. So many tears.

To be perfectly honest, Renji had cried a little too. Nothing hit harder than seeing a guy like Ichigo stripped of every ounce of the strength that had once defined him. Renji was pretty sure he’d rather have died than live powerless. Just hearing about it had made Renji clutch Zabimaru tightly as his balls tried to crawl up somewhere deep inside to hide. 

He was just as glad to have missed the actual sight.

Rukia had needed a lot of beer, after. They’d talked about wounded vets and how it was to be a soldier, but it was clear it didn’t much help. She was in it bad over Ichigo. Renji couldn’t do much to help except to try to be a good friend and listen. He would be just as wrecked if not more if it were Byakuya instead of Ichigo.

Just thinking about that possibility made Renji feel a little sick.

But he’d stayed sober so he could carry her back to the Thirteenth, if necessary. Which, in fact, he did end up having to do—she’d lost her legs, and probably part of her will, somewhere in the middle of the Precipice World. But, Captain Ukitake couldn’t be more sympathetic, so Renji felt all right leaving Rukia in his care.

All that had only taken him until late afternoon, so Renji had still had plenty of time to check in with the Sixth, apologize for his missed shift, do a little work, get something to eat, take a bath and… make his way back over to the Third to collect Captain Ōtoribashi. 

Which was where he was sitting now, waiting.

Once again, Renji had favored the couch. This time, however, the Third was far busier. Soldiers came and went. The smell of brewing coffee, a scent Renji very much associated with the Human World, drifted in from somewhere nearby. The place hummed with a pleasant amount of low level of noise, hallway conversations mingling with orders and practice yard drills.

Only now, sitting here among all these people going about their normal, mundane, decidedly un-kinky day, did it occur to Renji that what he was about to do with Rose—a guy he barely knew—might be a titch awkward.

It wasn’t necessarily the getting naked bit that made Renji reconsider. He thought he was a damn fine looking dude, with or without clothes. So, it wasn’t like he felt ashamed of anything Rose might see—if anything, he was proud of his body: between the hard work and the ink, Renji figured he could stand up beside the next guy, no problem.

But Rose was going to be staying fully-clothed, possibly in uniform.

To be a hundred percent honest, it wasn’t like Renji had never been the only one naked when other people had uniforms on either, but that had always been in the context of midnight shenanigans at the Eleventh. Usually, Renji had Zabimaru with him, and, more importantly all those guys were…

Well, they were all the same sort, weren’t they?

What even was Rose? The guy looked delicate enough to be a noble, but Renji had no idea. Yumichika was a finely boned, pretty man, but he came straight up out of the same hell as the rest of the Eleventh. It wasn’t like you could tell by looking,

Also, midnight horseplay, even if it did turn violent and vaguely serious, was not at all the same as getting trussed up in the single most vulnerable and available way possible, was it?

Well, Renji’d told the man his safe words. He’d just have to trust. Plus, the captain seemed nice enough. Even if Kira was a shit judge of character, it was clear Rose was no Gin.

Still, Renji couldn’t quite shake this sensation of puppets on a string, dancing to a beat dictated by a conductor. He had no idea where the image came from, but it hung there, on the edge of his consciousness.

Renji was sure he was just extrapolating paranoid ideas from Rose’s well-known musical bent. Probably it was nothing, an excuse for his own cold feet. 

The door opened with a swish. Captain Ōtoribashi stuck his head around the doorframe and gave Renji a muted smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant,” he said pleasantly. “It took me longer than I thought to gather up all my things. You have such—“ he waved his hand up and down Renji’s body, “—interesting colors. You’re hard to match.”

“Right,” Renji said, not knowing what he was supposed to say to that. He stood up because the captain was standing, but he wasn’t sure about protocol beyond that. Should he salute? Bow? Instead, he just shrugged: “Byakuya usually goes for red.”

Rose nodded. “Yes, but which red? It took me forever to find a crimson dark enough. Your hair is very… unusual. I will admit I considered black, which is perhaps somewhat pedestrian and uninspired, but Kira informs me that you have more than just the visible tattoos and so I thought black might end up being too busy, depending...” The captain’s gaze lingered on Renji’s uniform as though trying to fathom what lay beneath it. 

“Well, you’ll see soon enough,” Renji said with another lift of his shoulder. The captain headed for the door, and, not knowing if it was proper or not Renji automatically fell into place a step behind him. “I hope you won’t be insulted, but the servants are expecting us at the trade entrance.”

Rose looked baffled for a moment, as he adjusted a satchel over his shoulder. He flipped his hair from his face and asked: “Why would that insult me?”

Renji decided he liked this guy, weird lingering sense of puppet-master or not. “I really couldn’t tell you, sir. But some people care about stuff like that.”

“I spent a hundred plus years in the Human World. If I cared about that sort of thing, I wouldn’t have lasted very long.” Rose had glanced over to catch Renji’s eye and had to do a kind of double take to find him lagging behind. “What ever are you doing back there?”

Walking into battle? Renji wasn’t sure. Saying ‘this is where Byakuya expects me,’ sounded weird, too, so Renji settled on: “I don’t know. I guess it’s just natural.”

“You’ve been an adjutant a long time, I suppose.” Rose said, beckoning Renji to walk beside him.

“Um, no, less than a year.” To Rose’s curious look, Renji explained, “But you don’t want to be in Kenpachi’s line of fire when he draws neither, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the current Kenpachi that well, but, by reputation and title alone, I can only imagine that’s true,” Rose said. “You were in the Eleventh?”

“Yes, sir,” Renji said. “Most of my career.”

Rose chuckled, “You’re awfully… deferential for someone who spent most of his career in the Eleventh.”

“I guess my mama raised me right,” Renji said.

Rose laughed. They stepped out into the courtyard. The wind, which had held a chill all day, had turned wintry. Any moisture in the air felt like ice. A heavy cloud cover cast everything in a muted, gray light. 

The courtyard was busy, despite the weather, though most people hurried from one place to another, not lingering. Soldiers passing by gave their captain a nod or little bow in greeting. Rose seemed to be well respected, Renji thought. 

“I suppose your Captain Kuchiki is the sort to stand on ceremony,” Rose said. 

“You could say,” Renji agreed.

“How does that work?” Rose seemed startled by his own bluntness. He shook his head and started again. “I mean is it difficult for you to separate work and pleasure? Or does having strict protocol at work mean that home is that much more obviously relaxed?”

Renji considered his possible answers, but then decided that he was going to be naked with this guy in less than twenty minutes, so he might as well be honest. “Eh, I wish. Thing is, we’re still feeling our way in—about everything. Even just getting through breakfast can be fraught and complicated for us. I think that’s why these things with the ropes and such work for us. There are rules. He knows how he’s supposed to behave when there are clear rules, you know?”

“And you?”

“Me? Well, let’s just say there’s no chance of me stepping out of place if I’m tied down, is there?” To Rose’s concerned look, Renji said, “And it isn’t always like that. It’s just easier, and he likes it—it’s his thing. For me, the guesswork is gone. I don’t have to think much, you know? I’m a roll with it guy normally, so this works for me.”

Rose made a noncommittal noise. “It’s not for me to judge. And, honestly, I understand the appeal of having a script to follow. It’s like relaxing into a pre-composed piece, just letting your mind go as you follow the notes that are already laid out for you on the page. Nothing wrong with that. Very enjoyable.”

Renji nodded. They’d reached the gate. “You know the way to the Kuchiki mansion?” When Rose nodded, Renji took a breath and leaped into shunpo, trusting the captain to follow. 

In minutes, they were at the backdoor. Eishirō’s young son, Yu, was waiting for them with hot cups of tea. “Welcome to the Kuchiki estate, Captain,” Yu said very formally. To Renji, he smiled and added, “Welcome home, Lieutenant.”

With all the excitement of the day winding down, the back hallways were busy with servants.

“How long until Captain Kuchiki can retire?” Renji asked a little anxiously. He had no idea how long all the fancy knotting was going to take. He wanted plenty of time for all that, but he also didn’t want to be left hanging, possibly literally, for too long. That could be… well, Renji wasn’t sure. This was, after all, a big step up in their game.

“Oh, no longer than an hour at the most, I would think, sir,” Yu said.

Renji glanced at Rose, who nodded and said: “That should be perfect.”

An hour?

Rose gave Renji a reassuring smile. “Many sessions are longer, but you’re a novice. And, far more importantly, this is for someone else, not you and I.”

Yep. This was going to be awkwardly intimate. Renji put it out of his mind because this was all part of the gift. He had nothing else to give, not really. 

Yu bowed after opening the door to the master suite. He collected the tea bowls; Renji’s untouched and Rose’s drained. “His lordship said that you should feel free to use whatever spaces appeal to your aesthetic, master.” This was addressed to Rose, who nodded his thanks. “Just ring the bell when you’re finished.”

The instant the door was closed Renji undid his hair, removed Zabimaru, and started undressing. Rose, meanwhile, explored the rooms of the suite. He seemed to dismiss the bedroom almost instantly and returned to the sitting room with its sunken fireplace and, Renji really noticed for the first time, sturdy columns. There were four of them, symmetrically placed, made of some polished wood or other—probably cherry—a part of the architecture, completely invisible as support for the roof or what lay beneath them. 

Now Renji looked at them with mounting trepidation, as he pulled his obi from his hakama. Meanwhile, Rose ran his hand along the wood, caressing, testing… Then, he went back to the door they’d entered and gazed around the room. He walked over and blew out a lantern, moved another one, and then went back to the doorway to check the effect.

_He’s trying to figure out where’s the most dramatic spot to stick me is; the place that will catch Byakuya’s eye just as he comes in_ , Renji figured out as he carried the hakama to the bedroom to keep his clothes pile out of whatever artistic vision Rose had going. This careful planning reminded Renji a little of the time Byakuya had wanted to “surprise” Eishirō. Well, at least this time the person walking in the door would like what they saw, a lot.

Besides, this kind of eye for detail made Rose seem competent, artistic, and professional.

Renji was determined to do his part as well: submit.

Too bad submission was completely unnatural for him. But then, what kind of gift would it be if it were easy?

When Renji came back in, Rose was perched on a table, securing ropes he’d somehow looped around the joists of the column. Noticing Renji’s open-mouthed fascination, Rose smiled apologetically, “You’re a little taller than I am. And,” Rose added, glancing at Renji’s body with a very scientific, measuring eye, “Significantly heavier. That’s going to make the physics more complicated. Not insurmountable, mind. Just more complicated.”

Renji nodded. Levers and pulleys. He had vague memories from Academy and those horrible several weeks of high school.

He wondered what he should do with himself in the meantime, but Rose jerked his chin in the direction of the bathroom. “I’d avail myself, if I were you.”

Renji didn’t really feel the need to pee, but he figured it was good advice nonetheless. As he stood in front of the chamber pot, Renji tried to remember all the things Rose had told him about what to expect last night. Sadly, much of it was lost to the heavy drinking with the Eleventh. Renji did remember explaining to Rose far too much about what Byakuya liked. He’d kept stressing: ‘availability.’ He might have even confessed his personal enjoyment of the humbler.

The guy in the mirror did not look sure about this. Not one bit.

Renji told himself to man-up. 

Once Renji had cleaned up and got back out into the relative coziness of the sitting room, Rose seemed set up. At least, the table had been returned to its spot and several ropes were dangling from ceiling beams. Modern, but soothing music was coming from somewhere. At first Renji wondered if the captain had gone into shikai release, but then he noticed that in the corner, Rose had placed one of those i-Things Ichigo always had plugged into his ears. This one had two little boxy speakers. The captain had also tossed something into the irori’s embers that smelled good, like maybe sweet grass. A haze of pleasant smelling smoke filled the room.

Very dramatic—especially with the carefully placed lanterns forming a kind of soft focus spotlight on the column.

“Are you ready?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know,” Renji answered honestly. “Probably not, but let’s do it, anyway.”

Rose nodded seriously. “That’s a healthy attitude. I’ll check in with you as we go.”

“I figured.”

They stared expectantly at each other for a moment before Rose said, “It’s somewhat traditional for you to kneel at the start. Are you comfortable doing that?”

“Oh, um, not for a huge amount of time, but, yeah, of course.” Renji sat seiza where Rose indicated. He put his hands on his naked thighs. Renji was pretty sure his posture was less than subservient, but he tried for patience, if nothing else.

Renji let out a breath, relaxed his shoulders. 

Rose had left his bag at the edge of the tatami, as though it were intentionally set outside of a dojo’s sparring ring. He rummaged through the satchel now, unhurriedly. Over his shoulder, he made conversation. “Kira knows you very well, I think,” he said. “He told me that you were more accustomed to an active role. Will this be very hard for you?”

Renji thought about it seriously. “It’s true. I topped exclusively before Byakuya. Maybe it’s strange. Yeah, I’m an active, take charge, hotheaded guy, but I always perform best under orders, you know what I mean? I’m a good fighter, but a strong commander makes me a better soldier. ”

Rose sat back, ropes in his hands, listening. “A very philosophical approach. I approve,” he said. Then he nodded, “You’ll be fine.”

Rose approached Renji now, the rope in his open palms, almost like an offering. Kneeling behind Renji, Rose put his hand on Renji's arm and left it there. There was no urgency in his touch, no demand. He was just there, a solid presence, patient. “It seems a shame that your man likes your hands behind your back,” Rose noted, even as he gently directed Renji's arm where he wanted it. “The tattoos on your biceps are so striking. Perhaps I can find a way to show him what he's missing.”

Rope slid around flesh, quickly, succinctly. The deftness of Rose's movements made Renji say, “I'm sure you can.”

This part was much like things were with Byakuya, only decidedly faster. Rose worked quickly, but avoided Renji’s upper arms, looping thick rope around his wrists and forearms, instead. As he worked, he chatted amiably, “Kira has very fond memories of you from Academy. Though he painted you as quite rough.”

Renji started to laugh, but it turned into a grunt as Rose tightened something. “I bet.” 

Rose left Renji for a moment, returning to his bag and setting a few looped cords around his shoulders. When he came back, he knelt facing Renji. He put a hand on Renji’s chest. Again, it was just there, as though to say, ‘Here. Now.’ Their eyes met. “How are you with things around your throat.”

“Not awesome,” Renji admitted. “But I can tolerate it.”

“Let’s see how you do.”

Renji knew exactly how he’d do. Anything smacking of a collar made him go all quiet and still… expectant and wary. Renji had steeled himself, but the rope slipped away. 

That steady hand on Renji’s head again as Rose got up. “We’ll do other things first, eh? Build up some trust. I could potentially support you without. Honestly, I just hate the idea of breaking the lines of your ink with over the shoulder. Still, could be done if necessary.”

“I can handle it,” Renji said.

““Mmm, eyes and body say ‘no.’” Ropes wrapped and tightened around Renji’s chest. Renji was positioned with firm and determined moves. “You’re a funny person, Lieutenant,” Rose said as he started doing something else behind Renji that was making him sit up straighter and arch his back. “You’re very honest and open much of the time, but you still have that alpha pride thing, don’t you? This is the problem with tops bottoming.”

“It’s not like that,” Renji grumped. “I’ve pushed through it before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Rose said. “But you and I aren’t ready for that.”

There was some kind of threading and suddenly, Renji was being pulled upward to a standing position. It was weird to be lifted by something other than his own volition. The ropes tightened and put more pressure certain places. It was uncomfortable, but not painful.

Things were starting to get physically awkward. Renji was being held up high enough that he was on tiptoes and not at all in control of his own balance. He kept trying to steady himself, but Rose’s stocking toe swept his feet out from under him, almost playfully, but with a clear message: ‘Cute, but don’t even try. You’re in my control.’

Renji let out a breath and closed his eyes. Right, he told himself, don’t fight it.

More threading and tightening, in and out, around thighs, hips, spreading his legs, turning him this way and that. Renji made noises, unconscious ones, but nothing in them made Rose hesitate. Nothing yet was particularly turning Renji on, either. The ropes felt constricting, immobilizing, but… it was like when Rose put his hand on Renji’s head. They were just there, oddly comforting despite the stretch of muscle here and awkward arch there. He’d feel weird about the way his cock and balls were just flopping around, if Rose wasn’t treating his whole body that way, like a sack of potatoes to be shifted and positioned.

But then all of a sudden, a hand rested on the flat bit of stomach just above Renji’s pubic hair. ‘Here. Now.’ And Renji knew things were about to change drastically. 

“We came this far without anything around your neck,” Rose said plainly as if Renji wasn’t hanging from the rafters with his ass cheeks and legs spread wide. “Do you trust me?”

Renji was pretty sure the only person he didn’t trust right now was himself. In fact, his body was already starting to betray him. His cock twitched at the mere thought of its own bondage. Rose smiled like he already saw the answer in Renji’s eyes and body, but he waited. 

“Yeah,” Renji tried to sound casual, but there was deep husk in his voice. “I do.”

But Renji did have to shut his eyes and tell himself that the hands on him were Byakuya’s, especially when rope tugged his balls one way and his cock the other in a sensation very reminiscent of the humbler. Renji tried to bite back a moan, but it slid out. He also couldn’t squirm away at all. Not an inch. The ropes held him fast.

Suddenly, he felt his whole body in a way he hadn’t before. His breath quickened. Skin flushed. He felt alternately trapped and held close. He wanted out, wanted to stay. His cock was hard as a rock and already dripping. When things tightened there, Renji cried out. 

The first noise of appreciation came from Rose then, and it was a quiet, “Oh.” And then, “Perfection.”

When Rose’s hands left Renji’s body, he almost sobbed. The absence made Renji open his eyes, seeking him, but unfocused by sensory overload. When Renji spotted Rose, he stood at the doorway for a moment, his gaze--which had been so professional and distant--had sharpened into something almost possessive and needful. Then he came back and made a few adjustments, including a tug at a bit of Renji’s hair, which made Renji growl/moan. 

That made Rose smile brighter and that hawkish gaze narrow. “Ah,” he said, his hand lingering on Renji’s face. “Now I get the appeal.” Then there was a little, playful pat on Renji’s cheeks and a bright, “I’d better ring the servant. You won’t last long.”

Renji growled defiantly, but he was thinking: _accurate_.

**Author's Note:**

> Super-sorry for the long delay everyone. The next one *SHOULD* come faster since I've already written about 500 words of it. Provided life doesn't throw sticks at me again, at any rate... (knocking on wood.)


End file.
